ATLA: Azlua

Phoenix City Part VIII

Ty Lee sat slumped against the wall, knees drawn up, her back pressed into the cold stone. Her hair was a tangle of ash-streaked strands, ends brittle from heat. The smoke still clung to her skin. Her clothes were stiff with dried blood, edges burned where the fire had licked too close.

Her quarters were a ruin. A chair overturned, scrolls and reports scattered like fallen leaves, ink bleeding black across the floor. She wasn't sure if she'd done it in grief or rage. Maybe both.

Her eyes fixed on her hands. She saw them empty. Then she saw them full—clutching Renshu's lifeless body, blood seeping into her palms. The memory made her curl inward, arms hugging her own ribs.

"I just... can't do it." Her voice was barely a whisper.

But then, in the quiet, Renshu's voice came unbidden. Don't give up on them.

It rang in her skull like a bell. She clenched her jaw, shaking her head. "But I can't think of a way to fix this."

Idea after idea replayed in her mind—every policy change, every attempt to reach across the divide—and every one crumbled. "I've tried everything... it's impossible."

She forced herself upright, legs folding beneath her in a meditative pose. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breath. When cornered, she always asked the same question: What would Azula do?

Or in this case: How would Azula sue for peace?

But the question only circled back to the same wall: the rebels' only demand was for the Fire Nation to leave — an impossible ask.

"You're asking the wrong question."

Ty Lee's eyes opened. At first there was nothing—just the flicker of the lamp's flame. Then she turned her head, and Azula was there, leaning casually against the doorframe, amber eyes sharp and cool.

Ty Lee's lips twitched into a weary smile. "How am I asking the wrong question?"

Azula tilted her head. "Why would I ever sue for peace?"

It was such a simple line, yet it sliced through Ty Lee's thoughts.

"That's... you're right. You wouldn't."

A smirk. "So what's the right question?"

Ty Lee thought for a beat. "How would you bring order to the city? But—ugh—that doesn't help. I was told to bring peace here."

Azula's eyes narrowed. "Wrong. What were your exact orders?"

"To take control of the city and bring stability and order."

"Exactly. Control, not peace. Now, why did I send you?"

"It's a test," Ty Lee said slowly. "To see if I could handle my position."

"Is that all? Then why only a handful of guards?"

Ty Lee's brow furrowed. "You knew about the situation here."

"And?"

"...You knew I'd be hated. You knew my usual way of working wouldn't... work."

"Go deeper."

"You wanted to change how I see things."

Azula smiled faintly. "Correct. So, how do you make people who hate you like you?"

Ty Lee hesitated. "Give them a distraction?"

Azula stepped to the table in the corner. A map of Phoenix City lay there, dotted with carved wooden figures—Fire Nation soldiers, civilians, rebels. She moved a cluster of civilians aside. "Almost. Give them another enemy." She rotated the civilians so they faced the rebels.